The delights of deepest Pitlochry

It was amazing that we got there at all really, what with me driving and Alex Gray navigating - two blondes in one car.... all the way to the Pitlochry Winter Words writing festival. There was one roundabout we went round twice - that was because we were wittering on about a little plot point that had drifted into her brain at three thirty that morning and I was concurring, having had a similar experience about two hours later. The creative moon must have been hovering over the West Coast that morning.

The festival was quietly attended for all speakers except Neil Oliver, he of the lustrous hair. I think he could make a fortune doing the L'Oreal ads - because he is worth it. I have never met him but I do know his old sidekick Tony Pollard, (they used to dig ditches together on TV and look at who killed who, why and when and every episode I saw they blamed the English but then .. they could do the who killed who and why bit on the streets of Paisley without ever having to dig a hole). Tony wrote the book The Lazarus Club which is as intellectual a crime book as you will ever read. But at a publishing party, I was sent into a corner to 'see what was up with him!!' This was from a very posh publishing boy ( he looked about twelve). Posh publishing boy was very scared of Tony's general demeanour (Scottish!), his drinking (one glass of red wine), his language (Glaswegian) etc etc. Once dispatched I realised that Tony was being his usual self - just totally unable to understand the guy he was talking to because every second word was spiffing. Some people in publishing have only two languages .. .Enid Blyton English and A level Harvey Nichols. That is a good topic of conversation to get Chris Brookmyre started on, if any English person ever says to him, 'I didn't understand what you were saying,' he just keeps saying pardon.

And I mean KEEPS saying pardon. Wonder what Mr Salmond would say to that!

Meanwhile the Penguins are flying me to London for posh drinky parties ...those occasions where I never have enough hands..drink in one, posh pringle in the other and trying to shake hands with somebody important with no free limbs.

I've got very exciting news about Crime fest but I will wait until it is all confirmed until I let you know but it sounds like a joke... A Scot, a Swede, an American and a South African sit on a panel....

Next weeks exciting episode is my travels in Midlothian! and the strangest coffee shop in the shop. It was straight out of League Of Gentlemen - it was a local shop for local people!

Sunday was a new experience. Some lovely, but maybe misguided people had won me at an auction! The prize was lunch with me and the chance to witness my wit, wisdom and dodgy table manners at first hand. They were obviously going to walk away with a full sense of disappointment and an empty wallet.
These events always begin as a slightly nerve wracking experience. I do recall Victoria Wood saying that she had done such an occasion and that she sat there... and sat there..., the other three sat opposite her, looking at her in almost total silence. The only thing they would say was ‘Ok then make us laugh.’ Beforehand, I kept thinking that one of them might say...’so how exactly would you go about killing somebody and get away with it? My husband for example, how would you kill a man like that? Theoretically speaking of course...’ And then start taking notes.....
However Margaret and co were lovely... even more surprising that they all had a law degree (!). Good job that I am used to being the intellectual lightweight. I hope they thought they got value for money and that they had a good time. The meal was donated by the Eglinton Arms in deepest Eaglesham; the Eggie I do believe it is called locally. It is now going to appear in book 5, THE NIGHT HUNTER. I might have to go back and sample the coffee and scones again for research purposes. The Parmesan cheese and polenta rissoles then deep fried goat’s cheese were fab. It was better than a chip butty and Irn Bru on a chilly seat on the beach at Largs. My co nibblers had some slices of dead cow which they seemed to enjoy but I did not enquire. I don’t think I could ever make it as a food critic.
Nice to know that they went off to Asda and we went off to Tesco! HWMBI had been sitting in the car for the entire duration – the whole time. I thought he might have escaped for a Yorkie bar or died of boredom but he said it was bliss, sitting in warm car, listening to his philosophical lectures, his phone off where nobody, including me, could nag him.
It was all in aid of Action Medical Research. A great way of raising funds where I hope, everybody gets something out if it and the charity gets more than anyone. Times are hard for fundraisers ,last year my co diners had out bid the others for a hot air balloon ride, I hope I was slightly more fun than that. Or if not more fun, at least available for lunch in all weathers.
If anybody is interested Alex Grey and I will be doing some joint after dinner speaking for the same charity in Edinburgh on the 23rdMarch at the George hotel... I think I might be the intellectual light weight on that occasion as well.
In fact I think I might be trying to do some fundraising myself as I have just got the bill in for the roof damage. I could buy St Mirren a new goalie for that money. Two in fact.

Hi all,

As you can tell by the silence in blog world, things have been very busy indeed. I am postulating on various issues of the universe.

1) Did Barnes Wallis get his idea for the dambuster bombs by watching old ridge tiles bounce
down a slate roof, smashing everything in their path?

2) Fallen trees do make remarkable traffic calming devices.

3) Why does water pouring in the roof make it's way to the ceiling where the newest plaster is
and then make it's way through staining everything in it's path a shitty brown colour ?

4) Am I looking forward to Wullie the plasterer moving back into the house to repair the
plaster he has just repaired? Will he make it on X factor?Is the world ready for him? Is
Simon Cowell?

5) After a week long wait, why does the roofer appear the minute you step unto the bath?

6) In a fight between a remote controlled tank and an old pit bull, the dog will win every time.

7) Did the guy who wrote the exorcist get the pane of glass through the neck idea by watching
the roof come off the football stadium next door and float into his garden with all the precision
of Fatima throwing a javelin. Or sneezing out a cockroach?

8) Did Mr Baum get his idea for the Wizard of Oz by watching next door's hut being lifted up and
spun across the garden? In Glasgow?

9) Everytime I start to do this, another email comes through. I have interesting things in the
pipeline that I'll tell you about tomorrow as another email has just popped through!

Interesting!

caro

pixie world

Well welcome to the world of the pixies. Anybody who has ever moved from A to B will know that at some point someone has to a start packing up all the stuff, this job is done by the pixies. Getting all the boxes out..done by the pixies. Going through the loft and the basement, done by the pixies. These pixies are malevolent and always seem to remove the thing that the AN Other desperately wants at that minute. Although the article in question has not been seen or used for years and is now packed at the bottom of a box, at the bottom of a pile at the back of the garage. This produces cries of abject misery... OH but I need it now..... Did I unpack anything?... Did I hell. I resisted all temptation to go and buy another one, no matter how much it might help the economy. As wee granny used to say, you can always get used to doing without. And without sounding too much like my mother it never really does you any harm to ‘go without.’ (greek economics should take note!)

It fact I think my life would be happier and culturally enriched if we had to do without the x-factor and that thing on the other channel where they wear sparkly frocks, too much fake tan and twirl around a lot. He who would must be ignored goes off his nut, forced to watch the x-factor by his two charming but artistically challenged teenagers , he who must be he ignored just rants. The kids don’t actually watch the show, they just turn on the tv, sit back and wait for the rant to begin. It is funnier than Nick Clegg.... and probably last longer than the average chart life of the winning X factor contestant. He who must be ignored is that most cherished of things ( a man who does the ironing!) a musician who can play by ear. Having spent much of my youth around musicians and their ilk, you can trust them when they say ‘they are singing flat! very flat! Why is he saying that was good, that was flat!’ Over and Over....

But I think I would be blind not to notice that the same thing is happening in publishing. Looking at the books kicking around supermarkets for instance. I like Jeremy Clarkson, but I trust him about as far as I could comfortably spit out a warthog. I do admire his cheeky charm but do I want to read about his private life in a book? No. Nor Jordan, nor that other one that I can’t figure out what she actually does for a living...... Kerry Katona? Any of you that have read The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy will recall the bit where all the useless people were sent off into space to inhabit a new planet. Oh I’ve just remembered that turned out to be the Earth didn’t it. We have evolved from the terminally useless. Well I suppose that explains the Simon Cowell phenomenon that is going on.

Why did get rid of that wee fat ugly one that can hold a tune? he asks. I think he answered his own question there. In fact I think I might put the plasterer forward for the x-factor, he does look like Rab C Nesbitt on a bad day but the man can sing. And I apologise for missing the joke out last week, as I was reminded more than once... . The song Nessan Dorma is known in Scotland as ‘no messin norma’.

And with regard to philosophy, did you hear about the philosopher who went to the brothel to try to improve the minds of the prostitutes? Well he found out that you can put Descartes before the whores but you cannot make them think.

And while on that theme.... joke overheard in Morrison’s tea room... what has a hundred legs and no teeth? The methadone queue at the pharmacy. Funny but sadly true.

the return of the ramsay!

It seems ages since I last sat down to blog but I do have excuses of deadlines, builders and being short staffed at work. It was difficult to find time to sleep never mind write anything.

A strange highlight of the last few weeks was being underneath the table with a bearded collie called Buddy while appearing on the Fred MacAulay Show. I was talking about treating animals and trying to amuse the live audience as Buddy chewed happily on my shoes. He was a lovely dog, but he was wearing a red bandana. That to me is the same as a man who wears a bow tie as a fashion statement (never to be trusted). Any bandana wearing pooch or indeed, any pooch with a pink coat or dog wellies is a target for the wonderment that is Emily pit bull. She attacks them on sight with her little Mutley laugh. My dog is a type as named by Billy Connolly, it’s a ‘Wee Glasgow brown dog’... a strange looking short coated rather ugly animal that resembles a haggis with an obesity issue. These dogs, seen all over Glasgow, are commonly strutting about, leading a gang of reprobates. They walk as if they own the place and are rather good at upending wheelie bins. Their natural diet is chicken tikka and irn bru. Their personal hygiene is iffy in the extreme.

Buddy, resplendent in his red bandana, showed off his party trick on the radio- barking on command. My dog’s party trick is the summary slapping around of dogs wearing red bandanas.

After talking to Buddy under the table, I was treated to coffee by David hyphenated, I can never recall his proper name or his job title but he is something very important at BBC radio. He asked me to submit a few ideas but not crime or comedy he said. My heart sank as I thought, ‘why the .... are you asking me??’ But I did put in four ideas and there was one that he hated slightly less than he hated the other three so we will see what comes of that. Writing plays for radio is much more difficult than it seems.

The Jack the Ripper play is being ripped apart (pardon me!) by my co writers, book four is away at the printers, book five is cooking nicely and when I get to that point my brain halts in protest at having too much to do. I have also got a whole load of appearances and talks to do – some of them are quite grown up--- see above comment about crime and comedy --- I’m not that much good at philosophy beyond that Rab C Nesbitt Govan street philosophy. That I can understand but Kierkegaard and all these chappies seem to have a go at horses all the time... is it a horse isn’t it a horse.... mmmm. Is in conceptual horse. Is the horse there? Or merely in your conscious? Do these people have too much time on their hands? I’m appearing on a panel of forensics and philosophy. I do have a great book on ethics and forensics which I think I shall quote a lot and look clever.

Managed to make it back to weegie which, like,most literary events these days has turned into a bit of a moan fest about how bad publishing is . But they had good sandwiches and I had a great chat with my pal Brian about the best way to lock Cinderella is a cupboard and spoke to Phyllis who is venturing into e publishing, (I might have that wrong).

Had a bit of bad news... the lovely and quietly humorous John Lawton ( I think of him as the Bill Nighy of the crime writing world) will not be joining me at the Bristol Crimefest this year...as he is holed up in Italy with his cat, some red wine and a year’s worth of desert island discs. I read that as I was sitting with a duvet wrapped round me trying to maintain some kind of core temperature as the builders had all the doors open, it was snowing on the hills and the wonderdog was lying in front of the freezer in an attempt to heat up. The plasterer was practicing the high notes in Nessan Dorma, so I decided to ignore Mr Lawton for being a wee smarty.

Going now to practice chasing some dead people over the top of the Rest and Be Thankful and that is a major wellie and thermal underwear job. That’s a back to the car for a chip buttie and flask of cocka leekie soup job! Can’t do that in Italy Mr Lawton eh?

Rosie Birk Larsson

Been very negligent recently on the blogging front, due to holidays, book five, Jack the ripper and the excitement of a new carpet, indeed a carpet. After living in a building site for years it is really something when a carpet finally goes down and there is one room at least that’s not got cold, jaggy, drafty floor boards...with a gaps so big they create disorder in the space time continuum. All sorts of creepy crawlies come up the gaps, probably terribly mutated by the limitations on the gene pools. Spiders mostly, huge hairy spiders that frighten the pit bull. Been working hard on a play script/ treatment whatever you call it, my story boarding for the jack the ripper musical. I’m taking the challenge on the chin and trying to write it with a degree of empathy for the ripper. He wasn’t a bad old sod really compared with more recent serial killers. Very interesting that it was the first series of murders where there was a literate population to follow what the police were and were not doing by mass media. And the newspapers found out just how much they could boost their circulation by scaring the man, and indeed the woman, in the street senseless.

The name jack the ripper comes from a letter sent by a reporter pretending to be the murderer, just to stir things up a wee bit. Just as well they did not have phones in those days.

In the musical though, we are really are trying to scare the pants off folk. None of this cheery, happy cockney stuff of Dick Van Dyke and Tommy Steele. I’m working with a very talented musical person ( not in the Julie Andrews mould, more in the Lemmy from motor head mould) and a ripperologist who keeps thinking that the truth has some bearing on the issue. (Tempted to say that’s unusual for a cop but that would be unfair. Not.) Never let the truth get in the way of a good story of course!

Book five is coming on a storm, book four is away being proof read. Not sure what the title will be but I think THE BLOOD OF CROWS is top of the list at the moment.

Spent most of my time on holiday reading Stieg Larsson and the Millenium trilogy. And I really don’t know why I bothered. Well I do know, I believed the hype. Sinc e then I have been doing a little bit of market research through my patients who have read all three and there’s a constant theme.. ‘yes, I enjoyed them. No, I didn’t read it all. Yes, I skipped over bits... and then , on close interrogation, there is a strange admittance of finding endless repetition, and not really believing the entire baseline of the story. I read it and was intrigued. I got in touch with a pal who lives in Stockholm, who is a Scottish trained criminal lawyer but has been working in Sweden for a few years. She had read the whole lot and was also wondering how you can be diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic with no symptoms. And that an appeal to the court will lift any guardian status for anybody with a lifestyle that they can maintain. Sweden, not Soviet Russia. Or was that the point Larsson was trying to make.

If you want a really tense story of murder, love and betrayal with a truely engaging female character, try that other Larsson.... Birk Larsson. He of the killing Danish TV series, now been remade by American TV. I’ve heard the American version is good but I was so taken by the original I don’t want to have another version in my head. I was so wound up in it I had to look up a spoiler site on the internet and make sure they caught the murderer in the end. I couldn’t get to sleep without knowing that. The guy playing Thise Birk Larsson, the victims father, deserves a TV Oscar .

It was fab.

Just as fab is Random by Craig Robertson, the guy I am appearing at the Edinburgh festival with. The event should be good

More soon

The King Of The Sausage People

Had a very good night at writers group last week with a guest writer Alistair McIver. He’s a children’s writer and into folk lore and kelpies (no that’s not illegal!). I knew he was a professional story teller and I attended with some misgiving as I thought ‘oh no, he’ll be a very worthy beardie in cashmere who will nod sagely and think the world would be a better place if we all paid attention to the life cycle of the lesser spotted haggis.’

Not so.

This young man appeared. He reminded me of a friend of mine who is to be found in the corner 48 hours after the party has ended, still in his tie dye t-shirt, still with his braveheart hair, still a bit dazed from doing agadoo until 4 in the morning and overdosing on Night Nurse - bad hangover but clear sinuses. Such is the type of Mr McIver – if not a rebel with a clue, he is at least a rebel with a cause - the cause is storytelling and story writing. His voice is a tad Alex Ferguson meets Sir Ian McKellen. I was surprised that he wasn’t RSADA, he has that degree of presence.... he is convincing even when he’s talking about the invasion of the sausage people and the best way to defend ourselves. The skill of a good story teller I presume.

I did google him to find out that he’s not a Glaswegian, his accent is from Dumfries yet his acting and observation of the Glaswegian ned is uncanny.

He wrote a book called the Glasgow Fairytale. He entered it for a competition for young kiddies but the reading age of the book was too old. He talked at some length about the phrasing and vocab for books for kids of different ages yet as I read the book I am aware that it’s a very subtle and complex plot .. an intelligent read for kids as well as being laugh out loud funny. This book has its multi storylines that intertwine and I suppose that shows that kids can deal with very sophisticated tales as long as they are crafted for that age.

So far, in the book a guy has been sold three magic beans by the jakey on the bus. I think Rapunzel might be an Asylum seeker, there’s a whole sectarian subplot with Cinders and the Ugly sisters and plenty of wry comment on the care system in place for young teenagers. I was with the little pigs all the way through their meeting with the planning officer (we’ve all been there!!!), I was cheering them on with the skin on my chinny chin chin!

Great stuff. I have no idea how it will pan out so from that point of view, it’s better than Steig Larsson. Will Snowy White, the albino chick magnet make it through to the end of the book now that the mirror has named him as the bonniest man in all of Glasgow. Should there have been a superinjunction??

Buy this book if you own a teenager who reads Tolkien a lot and is getting bit serious about life. Read it yourself before you hand it over. Don’t read page five while on public transport, there’s such good joke in there it can provoke spontaneous hilarity and you will walk about all day singing a song from your childhood about yer granny and a bus and you will probably get arrested.